Mortal Kombat: Blood Ties
by SpinoGuy Productions
Summary: Everyone has something that ties them to their past. And in order for him to achieve vengeance, it was Kenshi's duty to cut the ties that bound Kitana to a past she doesn't remember. But will he be able to survive when his own past catches up with him? Will he even want to? Rated T for fighting and some action. Rating subject to change.
1. The Past I

_The past._

_Takahashi Family Home._

Kenshi Takahashi was only fifteen years old when his entire life changed.

He remembered it vividly. The images seared into his mind.

He remembered he was in a field of wheat. His brother, Katsuo, was also there. They were practicing if he recalled correctly. His father was insistent that they practiced, even at a young age. Katsuo was the better pure swordsman, but Kenshi was always able to pull a dirty trick and gain the advantage.

Their father was always angry, and always punishing, but Kenshi never waivered from his approach to combat. His father always said, "Kenshi. There can never be true victory in the absence of honor."

Kenshi always replied, "But what's the point of honor, if you can't live to appreciate it?"

He would always be slapped, but his stance remained the same. That was the difference between honor and victory. And he would rather be victorious.

Kenshi blocked the wooden blade from Katsuo, countering with a thrust attack of his own. His brother back stepped, just coming a hair's length from coming into contact. Kenshi parried a few blows from his brother, attempting to gain some distance.

No matter how hard he tried, in this bout or their next, he simply wasn't as good with the blade as Katsuo. So, inevitably it seemed, Katsuo gained the advantage, catching every attack thrown at him and matched it perfectly. Kenshi went for one last maneuver, feigning a lunge attack, instead crouching to the ground and slashing at Katsuo's feet.

It was for not, as he simply jumped in the air and landed on Kenshi's chest, knocking the air out of his lungs. His sword was thrown from his grip, landing some yards away. A harsh cough erupted from his mouth, before being silenced by the sword at his throat.

Through heavy breaths, Katsuo stated, "I win, nīsan."

Without a word in reply or a moment of hesitation, Kenshi threw a handful of grass and dirt at Katsuo's eyes. The older brother was blinded just long enough for Kenshi to throw him off his chest. He quickly clamored over to Katsuo's felled body, throwing a punch across his nose.

He was about to throw another when he felt a hand grasp his wrist. He was ripped from Katsuo, with a solid knee being sent into his gut for his troubles. He curled into the fettle position, grasping his bruised insides.

"Kenshi. You lost. There was no need to attack Katsuo," his father reprimanded.

Kenshi wiped some spit from his mouth, sniffling. "But there was an opening!" he cried, pointing towards Katsuo. "What kind of a fighter would I be if I didn't press the advantage?!"

"One with honor, Kenshi." His father pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration. "Katsuo!" The youngest child stood at attention. "Is the point of this training to win?"

"No, sir," Katsuo replied without missing a beat.

"Then what is it?"

"To teach us humility in defeat, and honor in victory, sir."

"Very good," their father replied. "Kenshi, if this was a real fight, then you would be right to use any advantage you find. But that's not what these sessions are about."

"But why should I lose if I can win?" Kenshi asked, sitting up from his prone position. "Victory is all that should matter."

His father simply shook his head. "That competitive streak will be your death, Kenshi. Even without thinking from an honorable standpoint, sometimes you'll win the war by surrendering the battle."

Kenshi didn't press the issue anymore. His father simply left Kenshi and Katsuo to their training. They all went the same. Kenshi would always lose, never gaining a real advantage over Katsuo. He would be felled in decisive manner, a sword at his throat. Katsuo was ever the sport about it.

During one of their lulls, Kenshi was bandaging a cut across his arm when Katsuo asked a question.

"Why don't you like father, nīsan?"

He couldn't help but scoff. "Who said I didn't like him?"

"It's just that, well, you always argue with him."

Kenshi glanced at Katsuo. The youngest was only eleven at the time, and always gave off the impression of naive worship of their father. When father said jump, he jumped. When father said fight, he fought. Never once was a question asked, and never once was an order disobeyed.

It couldn't be denied that Katsuo was superior to Kenshi at the moment, but he couldn't help but feel that he was being looked up to. He hated that. He hated that he was the one to be looked up to. He hated that Katsuo was looking to him for what to do when father wasn't here.

"We argue because he's not always right," Kenshi replied, ripping the line of bandage from the roll with his teeth.

"But he's our father," Katsuo replied, looking like someone slapped him in the face with something that he could never have before considered. That was his problem, Kenshi decided. He hadn't grown past father yet.

Maybe Kenshi's problem was that he grew past father too quickly.

"I guess he is," Kenshi conceded.

"Boys! Time for dinner!"

Kenshi and Katsuo looked at each other, the hunger in their eyes changing from achieving victory to achieving the better meal. They quickly scrambled to their feet, pushing and shoving each other, and dashed towards their home.

Katsuo was the better brother with the sword, but Kenshi was faster on his feet. And it seemed father's lessons of honor stuck with Katsuo, as he not once attempted to throw something or try to trip up his younger twin. Kenshi wasn't even going to pretend that he would've done the same.

Once they got into the house, the weren't even two steps in before mother shouted at them, "Shoes!"

Kenshi rolled his eyes, quickly removing his footwear, followed closely by Katsuo doing the same.

They both stood in front of their mother, Elizabeth Warren-Takahashi. Unlike their father, who was a pureblooded Japanese man, her blond hair and blue eyes told their mother was from a more western area. They were never told any place specific, but they heard that she was from the United States when she and father were talking about visiting their grandparents.

That was a few weeks ago, and nothing else had been discussed about those plans, but it was fine with Kenshi. He was dreading the day he would have to leave the family house. Today, however, he wanted food.

"What are we having today, love?" Their father asked, coming in from his own training based on the line of sweat across his forehead. He placed a hand on her shoulder, which she scooped up with her own. It was the only physical display of affection Kenshi had ever seen his father partake in.

"I made some sushi with the fish you three caught last week," Elizabeth excitedly proclaimed, showing them the platter laid out on the table. "I've been slaving away all morning, so you'd better be happy, or no more sword training."

"Well, it's not just sword training, Elizabeth, there's other techniques—." He stopped when he saw his wife giving him a look that showed she was not amused. "Yes, well, I'll make sure to savor every bite."

Kenshi and Katuso tried to go for the same sushi piece. This resulted in them shouting at each other.

"I saw it first, Kenshi!"

"No you didn't, you knew I wanted that piece!"

"Children!"

They both coward at their father's voice. "Either decided who gets the piece, or no food for either of you."

The two boys glowered at each other before performing a game of Rock-Paper-Scissors. After two round of ties, rock and paper, Kenshi beat Katsuo by throwing scissors. Kenshi smiled gleefully as he took the piece of sushi.

A knock on the door alerted their father, who placed his chopsticks down. He placed a hand on Elizabeth's shoulder, smiling. "I'll be back."

"Don't take too long," she replied through a mouthful of food.

As he left, the rest of the family ate in silence. Kenshi tried to swipe some food from Katsuo under their mother's nose, but his hand was quickly swatted away by the very attentive Elizabeth.

The sound of glass shattering broke the peaceful silence of the meal. Elizabeth shot to her feet, "Takeda?!" When no reply came, she knelt down to her sons. "Boys, I need you both to run and hide! I'll find you when I find your father, alright?"

Katsuo's voice came out as barely a whisper. "Mom?"

Kenshi was already on his feet and picking up his brother. "Come on, we have to go!"

"I love you both." Without another word, she ran towards the front door. "Takeda!"

That was the last time Kenshi saw his mother.


	2. Chapter 1

**Author's Note: **Okay, so, I don't like putting notes at the beginning, but I'm doing this so no one gets confused.

I haven't worked on this fic for about eight months. I liked where it was going, but I thought about it and I felt as though I needed to change some details. Then life got a little crazy, 2020 has been happening. Haven't you heard? It's a bit mental.

So, what you are about to read is not chapter one as it was originally. The first half is mostly the same with a few edits, but it's basically the same. The second half though is completely different, as will the next few chapters if you read them. So, I present, Blood Ties version 2.0.

Enjoy.

* * *

A scream echoed throughout the streets of Deacon City.

Gunshots rang out.

Sirens blared.

It was another day in Deacon.

A man stirred in a hotel room.

The same dream again, Kenshi thought.

He groaned and sat up on the bed. It was hard and stiff, but he couldn't ask for much else. He hardly had any money left, and the motel was the cheapest he could find in Deacon City. He reached out in front of him, the bruises and scars leaving his body a wreck.

His hand finally grasped the sword scabbard in front of him. He opened his eyes, but even then, he still could not see.

When Kenshi was a child, he was in an accident, taking his eyesight away. A horizontal scar from his right to left temple over his eyes was the most prominent feature on his face. Pale blue circles were the only indication of an iris and pupil, long since faded. If someone were to pay enough attention to his eyes, they would be puzzled to notice a slight glow to it. Blinded since childhood, he knew how to deal with the loss of his eyesight.

That was why he had the sword, _Sento_. When he gained hold of it, a pulse was sent out. A vague blue hue of any object in the room appeared to him. Kenshi scratched the thick stubble on his chin, before slowly getting to his feet. The pain from the night before took its tool on him, making movement hard.

_Sento_ soon started working its magic, allowing Kenshi to "see" a more acurate outline of the room. Details were nonexistent to him, but he could move around now. And he immediately limped towards the mini-fridge. Opening the door and feeling the cool air brush against his shirtless body, he reached for a bottle. He gave it a quick sniff before putting it back and grabbing another. This one would do, he decided. He pupped open the bottle and took a few swigs.

The alcohol burned his throat, but it also dulled the pain the rest of his body was feeling. Placing the bottle back in the fridge, he felt his stomach. The bandages were dirty again. Kenshi peeled the cloth away, letting it fall to the ground. He limped towards the bathroom, only stopping briefly to steady himself against a dresser. He pinched the bridge of his nose, attempting to fight the headache he was quickly getting.

Standing in front of the bathroom mirror, it was times like these that Kenshi was happy that he couldn't see. The state of his body was probably not a sight one would wish to see. He applied some medical alcohol and new bandages on the wound. This was a daily occurrence at this point, he thought to himself. He stumbled out of the bedroom, grabbed a t-shirt, and slowly pulled it over his head.

The next step on his daily routine was to grab his jacket. As he walked over towards the coat rack, he grabbed the small pile of crumpled up bills. He had no idea what the denominations were, only that he took them off a mugger a few nights ago.

He needed cash, he decided.

Kenshi strapped _Sento_ on his left hip and threw on his black, triple-cut long coat. It fit snugly to his shoulders and arms, but as it went down it was able to hit the blade completely when at rest. He took the time to adjust the coat to make sure it was completely invisible. If his movement was slow enough, it would remain that way.

After getting ready, he stepped out of the door.

* * *

The day was cold, as usual. It always seemed cold in this city, Kenshi mused.

After giving the hotel front desk the money to pay for another room, he was quickly on his way. Food was at the top of his list, he decided, figuring that the day was going to be a long one. His body ached more than usual when it was going to be a hard day.

He needed to focus now, though. He was on the hunt, and he needed to find his prey.

Currently he was chasing down a man name Benjamin Gertz. He was a higher up at Midway Incorporated, a massive media conglomerate. According to some information Kenshi had picked up along the way, Midway had almost 50% of all the world's media in their grasp. Mergers and buyouts were the primary cause of this, although they weren't averse to crushing smaller businesses into the dirt and buying the remains.

Gertz was a nameless face among the rank and file, never once getting recognized on the street. He enjoyed walking to work, stopping at the Starbucks at the halfway point, ordering his insanely overcaffeinated mocha and then eyeballing the female runners that passed him by. He would even try chatting them up a few times. Whenever successful, he would tell them when he was off work, where and when to meet him, and then sleep with them.

He made sure his wife was kept in the dark, of course.

A true sleaze in every aspect of his life, he was primarily responsible for many of the more ruthless decisions among the company. Not officially, of course. Officially, he was assistant to some other meaningless position in the company, but his true power lay behind his façade.

Behind him was a powerful organization, one with its claws in many aspects of the world. A name so feared, few dared to even speak its name aloud. They always called it the Organization. A plain name to cover the horror of what they really were.

Gertz was about to round a corner. He was very much ahead of schedule, he noted to himself with a smile. He had gotten up before his alarm had went off, a pleasant surprise, and made sure to get out of bed without disturbing his wife too much. He failed, but he wove a tale of how he was going to head to work early to make sure his bosses were well taken care of, or some such nonsense.

She'd believed it. It was honestly what he loved about her so much. She was incredibly trusting, making his occasional late-night escapades that much easier to partake in. Speaking of, there was this cute brunette that he had caught a few glimpses of her the past few days. Maybe he'd see her again and stop to say hello. He just had to remember to keep the ring off this time, unlike the last girl. He never knew who would be okay with it.

He had stopped at the Starbucks. Gertz had a pleasant chat with the barista. His name was of a foreign variety, and he decided that he wouldn't even attempt to pronounce it. The barista was misinformed of a great many things, as people like him are, but he was a kind enough fellow that Gertz ended up having a pleasant time.

In the distance, a sight brought a smile to his face. The brunette. And being a good hour early, he figured he'd have more than enough time to—

He was suddenly and violently pulled into a nearby alley way. He would have screamed, but a hand shot forward and covered his mouth. The muffled cries were barely audible to the passerbys. He tried calling out for his brunette, but she just jogged past the alley, not once giving him a glance.

Gertz was being dragged deeper into the alley, he realized. Tears and snot started to pour out of his orifices. When he was far enough away from the alley opening, he was thrown against the wall, the hand over his mouth.

Kenshi had long ago scouted Gertz's route. He also knew the businessman had a habit of occasionally getting up early. It was never more than an hour, but Kenshi had made sure to get here before the sun had barely broken over the horizon.

All so he could be here.

"Benjamin Gertz," Kenshi announced. His voice was cold, hard, and slightly raspy from long periods of silence. If he could see, he would have noticed the surprise on the other's face at being recongized. "If you make a sound above a loud whisper, I will make sure you die screaming. Understood?"

Gertz, ever the coward, nodded his head up and down as fast as he could.

Kenshi carefully lowered his hand. "I have some questions for you."

"I-I can give you all the money you want!" he pleaded with a hushed tone. "Please, just don't kill me! I have a wife and two kids!"

"A wife that you cheat on at every opportunity, and two children who haven't seen their father on their own birthdays since they were born," Kenshi corrected. "Father of the year."

"How did you—Never mind, just take all the money!"

He quickly pulled out a wallet and held it out to Kenshi.

The blind man slapped it out of his hands.

"I'm not after money, Gertz."

"Then what do you—" He was cut off by a stiff punch to the gut.

Before he could double over in pain, Kenshi had caught him by the chin and kept him standing upright.

"The next time you speak," he warned, "it had better be important. I'm asking the questions. And you're going to answer them."

Reaching behind his back, Kenshi quickly pulled out _Sento_ and placed the tip on Gertz's right cheek.

"Lie, and I will start cutting. I'll know." Kenshi tilted his head. "Nod if you understand."

Still having a firm grip on his chin, he felt Gertz nod.

"Good. Where are you getting your orders from?"

"I have no idea what you're—Mmmff!" Kenshi had quickly squeezed Gertz's mouth shut and made a quick incision across his cheek.

"What did I say about lying?" the blind man repeated over the muffled cries. "The next one won't be so light.

The "light" laceration was pouring blood down his face and neck and ruining his suit. Gertz would have been furious if he wasn't terrified.

"Again, where do you get the orders from."

"I don't know his name!" Gertz cried after Kenshi let his speak. "All I know is that he drops an envelope at my home every time he needs something taken care of. I find it when I get home from work. He might not even give me orders today!"

Kenshi could detect no lie. Still, he retightened his grip on Gertz's face and place the tip of his blade on the other cheek.

"You have to know something else, though, don't you? You're holding something back."

"I—" He was about to lie, he'll admit. But as soon as he felt the pressure increase on Kenshi's blade, he broke. "Alright, there's a house! The Belle Family house!"

"The condemned crack house?"

"That's the one," Gertz confirmed. "I've known some of the messengers to gather there! I've never been in person and it's all based on rumor, but that's all I have I swear!"

"One last thing," Kenshi stated.

"Oh, God, please no more," Gertz complained.

Kenshi said, "I need you to send them a message."

"W-what is it?"

"They'll know."

Kenshi took a step back and, with a quick slice, cut the man down. Gertz's eyes went wide as he slowly slid to the ground. Blood began to pour beneath the man as his head fell forward. He died pathetic and a coward, scared for his life in an alley with a blind man.

Crouching before his new kill, Kenshi held out a hand. A slight blew glow came from his palm, listening as the man's body caught on to the fact that it was dying. Another member of the Organization was dead. It wouldn't go unnoticed, he figured. Before, all he took out were common street thugs doing the dirty work. Never a head man.

And now, they would come after him.

Kenshi patted him down, looking for something specific. All members had it, even a man like Gertz. He found Gertz's wallet, sure to have some money, and a phone. He kept both. Finally, he found it. Around the man's neck was a chain. At the end of that chain was a pendant. To any normal person it would look like nothing. Just a circle with a triangle on the inside. At the three points of the triangle, a circle was cut into the shape.

He felt it through his hands just to be sure. But it was real. One of the corners of his mouth tugged upward, the closest to a smile he got.

A Lin Kuei pendant.

His vengeance was at hand.

With a flick of his wrist, the excess blood was flung from his sword and it was neatly and carefully replaced in its scabbard. He readjusted his coat, making sure the blade was hidden, before he carefully and slowly made his way out of the alley. No one noticed the blind man. Just the way he preferred it.

Benjamin Gertz's body wouldn't be discovered for two days.


End file.
